


Bedroom Talk

by Kantayra of Yore (Kantayra)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-07-01
Updated: 2002-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-19 03:30:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra%20of%20Yore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Early S6. Buffy spends the afternoon hanging out with Spike in his crypt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedroom Talk

“Spike?”

Buffy shut the door to the crypt behind her and searched the darkened room. Just enough daylight trickled in so that she could tell he wasn’t here. That left exactly two options: either he was out in the tunnels somewhere, or he was downstairs.

Buffy approached the black opening that led to who knew what below. She’d only been downstairs once or twice before, and certain memories of being chained to a wall made her a bit wary to descend the ladder. She could barely distinguish outlines of the objects below, highlighted by flickering candlelight.

That meant that he was probably home.

“Spike?” she called down, hoping he just hadn’t heard her before.

She got no response. That probably meant that he was asleep. Which meant that she should leave. But the instant she left, she had to face the cold, garish world she’d been brought back to.

And she just _couldn’t_ be alone right then…

She was downstairs before she knew it, and she followed the candlelight over to the bed. She had been right. He was sleeping.

What she hadn’t been expecting was that he was naked.

Her breath involuntarily caught in her throat at the sight of him. He lay surrounded by snowy white silk, his head resting comfortably on several pillows, his platinum hair blending in perfectly with the sheets. And his face… He looked so young and innocent in sleep, like the shy schoolboy she occasionally got glimpses of. His body was purely masculine, however. She was dimly aware that she had seen his bare chest before, but she’d never noticed how well sculpted it was. In that moment, he was the very definition of beauty to her.

And it scared her.

She took an involuntary step backward. She had to get out of here. Something was effecting her, making her want…

Then she gave her head a good, hard shake. It was ridiculous. She didn’t want anything from him except an ear for her troubles. All she was here for was to feel safe and un-pressured and, well… _alive_ again.

She took a cautious step closer to him, watching closely for any sign that he was awake.

“Spike?” she ventured again softly when he didn’t react to her approach.

She was standing right by the bed now, looking straight down at his sleeping face. She knew she hadn’t slept like that since she’d come back. Cold, terrifying nightmares of waking up in her coffin jerked her awake regularly throughout the night, and it had gotten to the point where she was afraid to sleep. But there was some consolation in the absolute peace on his face. After all, _he_ had had to crawl his way out of a coffin, too, and now he slept just fine. Maybe there was hope yet…

“Spike, wake up,” she sat down on the edge of the mattress and gently nudged his shoulder. “Please…” She begged softly when she felt the pain and anguish building up within her to the point of breaking.

His eyes opened, and confusion marred his brow for a second when he saw her sitting beside him.

A wave of relief passed over her. He was awake now; he would take care of her, make her feel better; everything was all right.

“Oh, Spike, I can’t take it anymore!” she collapsed onto his chest, her tears finally coming out in wheezy sobs that raked through her chest.

“Slayer? Buffy?” He held her tightly to him, gently running his fingers through her hair. “It’s all right, pet. Let it all out. I’ve got you,” he soothed her while simultaneously sitting them both up to lean against the headboard. She buried her face in his shoulder and clung to him as if her life depended on it.

“I,” sob, “can’t keep,” sniff, “lying anymore,” she began trying to wipe away her tears, and he gently pushed her hand aside before tenderly catching at her tears with his thumb, offering her whatever comfort he could with his touch.

“Rough bein’ with your pals, is it, ducks?”

His voice was soft and deep and so very relaxing. Buffy found her pain releasing under its hypnotic caresses.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout it, baby,” he continued to stroke her cheeks. “Jus’ take care of yourself. You don’t have to worry about anything else, not when you’re here with me.”

“It’s so hard,” she whispered raggedly into his shoulder.

“It’ll get easier,” he assured her. “Once you start living again, you’ll get caught right up in it. Hell, even dead things like me do.” He gave her a smile so kind it seemed strangely alien to his countenance and yet awfully appropriate as well…

“You’re not a thing,” she said softly, smiling back at him slightly. Her crying had passed now, and she felt that post breakdown weariness that always struck her in these moments.

“Not when ‘m with you,” he agreed, his hand still petting her hair rhythmically.

“Thanks,” she said, pulling back from him. He hands dropped away from her as she sat back.

“For what?” He honestly seemed not to know.

“For just being here for me when I’ve got no one else to come to,” Buffy shrugged and looked away shyly. “I know I shouldn’t impose, but—”

“You’re _not_ imposing,” he insisted sternly. “And you don’t have to thank me. ‘ll always be here for you, luv. _Always_.”

“I know,” she wrapped her arms around herself suddenly self-conscious of the fact that she’d just been curled up in a naked vampire’s lap. “I should really get going, and…” She honestly couldn’t think of an excuse at that moment.

“You want to go?” he asked.

“No really,” she said dully, “but—”

“No ‘but’s about it, pet. You want to stay, then you’ll stay.”

“But—” She gestured vaguely in the direction where the bunched up sheet covered the more inappropriate parts of his anatomy.

He gave her a seductive smirk. “I don’t mind if you don’t, luv.”

“I _do_!” she insisted a bit too quickly and forcefully, and her face turned a deep crimson.

He shrugged and let her reaction pass. “Then we’ll do something about it. Hands me my jeans,” he gestured over to the armchair beside his bed.

She quickly grabbed the black pants there and gave them to him before turning her back and blushing with renewed vigor.

He couldn’t help but smirk when the red extended back around her neck so that he could see just out put off she was. _And turned on_ , his nose provided. But the last thing she needed right now was for him to make her life more complicated, so he pulled on his pants without comment.

“So’d something in particular bring on the tears this time, or was it just life in general?” he asked lightly.

“No… Yes… I don’t know! It’s just—” she sighed, her back still to him.

“Everything,” he finished for her. “Things still aren’t feelin’ right. And the pressure of hiding it from the Scoobies just makes it all harder.”

“Exactly,” she shivered slightly.

“You cold, luv?” he asked, concerned.

“No, I’m fi—”

He caught her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “You don’t have to pretend around me, Buffy. Let me take care of you.”

“OK,” she agreed meekly. “I could use a blanket or something…”

Before she could even finish he’d gotten up and covered her shoulders with his black duster. She snuggled gratefully into the soft leather, taking in the heady aroma of cigarettes and bourbon and _him_.

“So then,” he said, pulling a black T-shirt over his head. “What do you want to do this afternoon?”

Buffy was tempted to complain aloud when the black fabric covered up that beautiful expanse of muscle but caught herself in time.

“Something relaxing,” she said, slipping her arms through the sleeves of his jacket. “Something fun… I think I need to laugh. And not have to think about _anything_.”

“Hmm… Well, we could watch a movie or the telly or we could play a game,” he suggested.

Buffy flopped back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “You know what I want?” she said at length.

“What? You just name it,” he sat down on the far side of the bed.

“I want you to tell me a story,” she said. “Something old and random and completely outside of all my problems.” She rolled over onto her stomach and looked at him. “If you can think of one, I mean,” she added sheepishly.

“I think I can manage that,” he gave her one of those shy smiles of his.

“Oh goody,” she said eagerly, propping herself up on her elbows so she was comfortable.

He laughed at her childlike enthusiasm before resting up against the headboard and beginning. “Well, the hero of this tale is a young chap named William,” he started.

“Anyone I know?” Buffy teased.

“Now what ever would give you that idea?” he said with false innocence, and she giggled slightly at his offended expression. “So, anyway,” he mock-huffed, “now that we’re all through interrupting. William was a wealthy little wanker, with a family as stuck-up as they come. So you can imagine his Mum didn’t take too kindly when ‘e started hangin’ out with the stable boys up at the Carlisle’s estate.”

“Oh, hanging out with a bad crowd,” Buffy said in mock-horror. “Are you sure this story’s appropriate for children?”

“You’d rather hear ‘bout me an’ your ex traipsing about through Europe?” Spike countered.

“Point well taken.”

“So,” he gave her a nasty glare, and she stuck her tongue out at him defiantly, “one day William’s out up to what passes for no good in his circles, an’ one of the stable boys – a chap named Henry – tells ‘im that there’s this cave down by the coast where a monster lives.”

“This story _is_ completely unrelated to my work, isn’t it?” Buffy demanded.

“If you’d stop interrupting me, you’d find out,” Spike sulked.

“Aw, poor Spikey,” she teased, crawling up so that she was sitting beside him and ruffling his hair. “I’m just making things _sooo_ difficult for you, amn’t I?”

“You’re a bleedin’ menace, luv,” he said affectionately.

She flashed him an amused smile before resting her head on his shoulder. “Go on,” she demanded.

He froze for a second at her nearness but then continued on, impressed with himself for not allowing his voice to break. “Well, Henry’s an older chap so William buys this like the young fool ‘e is, and soon enough he’s followin’ his friend down to the coast to check this out.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Buffy sighed contently, the sound of his voice and rise and fall of his chest when he spoke relaxing her.

“By now it’s startin’ to get dark, an’ William’s gettin’ a mite spooked ‘cause there’s a monster in the cliffs, an’ ‘e’s nowhere near strong enough to deal with monsters at this point.”

“Bet he gets good at it when he gets older,” she teased.

“Yeah, well, that’s beside the point.” If Spike’s face could have flushed at the compliment, it would have. It was so rare that she spared him a kind word. “But, anyway, Henry keeps eggin’ him on, an’ he doesn’t wanna be called a coward, so ‘e keeps going despite his better judgment.”

“An unfortunate tendency that will continue _long_ after his death…”

“Are you gonna let me tell this or not?” Spike exclaimed, exasperated.

“Sorry,” Buffy looked up at him, properly chastised. She caught his hand in hers and gave it a little squeeze in apology before laying her forehead back down on his shoulder.

“Hey, now, it’s all right, luv,” his expression instantly softened, her actions pacifying him. “Where would I be without you annoyin’ me?”

“Me?!” she giggled slightly. “ _You’re_ the one who thinks he’s god’s gift to—”

“What, pet?” he prodded when she abruptly stopped.

“Nothing,” she practically squeaked. “This is me being quiet. So, why aren’t you finishing your story?”

He rolled his eyes dramatically for her benefit before continuing. “So, William gets to the cave first, because of course Henry teases ‘im ‘bout bein’ chicken if he doesn’t.”

“Of course,” Buffy said before putting a hand over her mouth and giving him an apologetic look.

He let out a slight snort. “By now it’s black as pitch. The sun sets quickly in those parts during the autumn. William’s pretty edgy by this point, but Henry’s still behind him, telling him that if he’s too scared to go on it’s OK. But William’s a bookish kid, and he needs to prove himself so he goes right in…”

As Spike became wrapped up in his story, his voice lost the lower-class edge he had cultivated over the years, and his accent strangely resembled Giles’. Buffy studied his face intently, watching as the usual Big Bad mask stripped away, leaving only the remains of the man he had once been behind. She felt like she was intruding, peeking in on a private and intimate moment, and suddenly she realized just how little she really knew about the vampire beside her. He could be hard and brash one minute, and then soft and kind the next. No matter what persona he was projecting at the moment, though, he was always mesmerizing…

“And?” she picked up on his dramatic pause.

“An’ ‘e slips on the rocks an’ breaks ‘is ankle,” Spike supplied, his adopted accent back in full force as if he had just realized he’d accidentally dropped it. “’Enry goes runnin’ back to ‘is Mum, who gives ‘im a good yellin’ at for runnin’ ‘round with the stable boys.”

“That’s it?!” Buffy exclaimed, giving him a good, hard whap on the shoulder. “What about the monster?”

“Was no monster, kitten,” he chuckled slightly at her outrage. “Never was, not back in those days.”

“Well, I asked for random, and I got it,” she began to laugh as well. She calmed down before she asked her next question, though. “Do you ever regret it?”

“Regret what, luv?” he turned to her, surprised at the serious tone of her question.

“Becoming…what you are,” she felt a bit flustered. “I mean, do you miss living in a world with no monsters?”

“I like being a vampire,” he told her. “Never beat around the bush on that one. Maybe regretted it once or twice, but over all… It was the right choice for me. Don’t ever really bother to look back.” His tone abruptly lightened. “’Sides, I never would’ve got to tell lame childhood stories with my mortal enemy ‘f I hadn’t been turned.”

“And that’s _such_ a perk,” Buffy teased, rolling her eyes sarcastically.

He bit back the impulse to tell her that it was. “So that’s my story, ducks,” he said proudly.

She shook her head. “I swear, you are the _weirdest_ vampire alive…er, undead…”

“An’ I take great pride in that fact,” he gave her a wicked smirk.

“Mmm…” she leaned forward onto her elbows and closed her eyes.

“Slayer?” he asked, waving a hand in front of her face.

“What?” she gave him an annoyed look.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to imagine you as a human child,” Buffy said, closing her eyes again. “It’s kinda funny actually. For some reason your hair is still bleached…” She gave him a wry smile.

“Didn’t start bleachin’ my hair till the seventies, pet,” he laughed. “Don’t think that would’ve gone over too well in Victorian England.”

“Why do you bleach it?” she asked.

“Why do _you_?” he retorted defensively.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she pouted, “don’t tell me. See if I care.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and stuck out her lower lip.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” he clutched at his hair in frustration. “What is it with you an’ the Nibblet? Always gotta look so cute and vulnerable and—”

“So you’ll tell me?” she asked hopefully, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

“Just like the look is all,” he shrugged. “Better’n the last one.”

“What _was_ the last one?”

He ground his teeth together in irritation.

“C’mon, Spike. You can tell me,” she sidled over to him and rested her hand on his knee.

“Oh, dirty tactics now, is it?” he retorted, but his flesh couldn’t help but feel warm and alive where she touched him. He chanced a glance over at her and saw those same big, soulful, puppy-dog eyes that Dawn had used on him so often. “Oh, bugger!” he threw his head back. “There are pictures,” he finally confessed.

“Ohhh!” Buffy exclaimed in delight. “Where?”

“Album’s on the bookshelf,” he nodded in the right direction, “big black book.”

Buffy got up and snatched the book in question from the shelf. Flipping it open, she flopped back down on the bed, landing on her stomach. What she saw at first looked like any of a dozen old pictures she’d seen before. Then her eyes widened in recognition.

“Oh my god, is that _Darla_?!” she squealed with laughter. “Look at her _hair_!”

Spike stretched out beside her and looked at the picture that had her in hysterics.

“That’s nothing,” he insisted, turning the page. “Check out your sweetheart.”

Buffy stared at the image in blatant disbelief. “ _Angel_?!” she exclaimed.

“Gotta give ‘im credit,” Spike chuckled. “His hair may still stick straight up, but at least he lost the ponytail.”

“Oh, this is _sooo_ blackmail worthy!” Buffy smiled evilly. She turned the page. “Ah, and here’s Drusilla… Oh my god, she looks exactly the same,” she said in disbelief.

“Hasn’t changed her hair or style of dress since I’ve known her,” Spike agreed. “Here, you want a good laugh at the Big Bad,” he pointed to the picture next to it.

Buffy squinted at it for a second. One of the figures was undeniably Drusilla. The other… “Is that _you_?!” she started laughing again.

“That was the style at the time!” he insisted.

“An opera hat! I am _never_ going to be able to look at you with a shred of respect ever again,” she covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her giggles.

They flipped through the next few pages without serious incident, although Buffy was never going to stop giving Angel grief over that hair. The pictures of Darla and Angel trickled off quickly, though, and all that was left were Spike and Drusilla.

She snickered slightly at the look of him in a suit, but it wasn’t anything side-splittingly hilarious like the first few. But there were just so many, some grainy and some faded, but all of the two vampires holding each other tightly and smiling…

“Do you miss her?” Buffy asked softly.

“Who? Dru?” he shrugged nonchalantly but stopped when her eyes met his, nothing but compassion and concern in their hazel depths. “Yeah,” he finally admitted, “I do.”

“You two were together for a long time,” Buffy caught his hand when he turned away from her.

“We were,” he agreed, closing his eyes and sighing.

“If you want to go back to her…”

“I don’t,” he said firmly, looking her right in the eye. “It’s just that sometimes… Eternity can be so lonely…”

“Then why don’t you?” she asked, eyes wide.

“You know why.” He hung his head and looked down at where his hands were playing idly with the sheets.

Buffy lay there frozen for a minute. She was shocked to say the least, although she knew she really shouldn’t have been. After all, she’d practically forced him to say it. In fact, she’d wanted him to say it, and that notion scared her more than any demon she had ever faced.

“You haven’t gotten to the _really_ funny ones yet,” he suddenly broke the awkward silence between them, flipping forward through the album, “or at least the ones the Nibblet thinks are the funniest…”

“You showed these to Dawn?” Buffy asked, grateful for the distraction from the emotional weight that had settled upon them.

“’Course I didn’t,” he insisted. “She jus’ nabbed the book from me one day an’ helped herself. Laughed her ass off, let me tell you.”

Buffy couldn’t help but laugh herself at the picture he pointed to. “OK, Angel with long hair was bad enough, but… Spike, what were you thinking?!”

“It was the _sixties_! Everyone had long hair!” he defended himself.

“Oh god!” her sides started to ache as she collapsed in convulsions of mirth. “Are those,” giggle, “ _bellbottoms_?” Snort.

“Yeah, well check out Dru,” he turned the page.

“ _Go-go boots_?! And a high ponytail! Jeez, why didn’t you just show me these pictures when you were trying to kill me? I would have died in hysterics!” she was having a difficult time breathing between laughing so hard and making fun of him.

“That was Nibblet’s favorite, too,” he chuckled slightly. “I had to practically force Dru into ‘em, too. But it was worth it for that picture…”

“You’re good with her, you know,” Buffy said softly, once her laughter had quieted. “I really appreciate it. She needs a…friend.”

“She’s my L’il Bit,” Spike shrugged self-consciously.

“You love her?” The way Buffy said it wasn’t a question.

“I’d do anything for her,” he nodded.

“Even let her paint your toenails pink?” she joked.

Spike’s eyes widened. “She was _not_ s’posed to tell—”

“Take it easy,” Buffy giggled. For some reason she seemed to do that a lot around him. “I practically had to beat it out of her. And the only reason she told me was so that I would like you better.”

“What, by embarrassing me?” he sulked.

“Oh, c’mon,” Buffy nudged him in the shoulder. “Even I think it’s kind of sweet.”

“You do?” his eyes were wide with wonder.

“Yeah,” she absentmindedly brushed a lock of hair behind her ear and looked back down at the photos.

The next page revealed something that looked more like the Spike she knew and loved…er, _tolerated_. His hair was bleached white, but beyond that he had the all out punk thing going: safety pins through the shirt, torn jeans, and eyebrow ring.

“That’s how the look started,” he said. “Even you’ve got to admit it’s an improvement.”

“Oh boy,” her eyes widened comically.

“Oh, c’mon, Slayer. ‘s not _that_ bad…”

“Not. Bad,” her mind and mouth were completely disconnected at the sight of his tight shirt and powerful arm muscles. “Sexy.” Oh _god_ , she hadn’t just said that aloud, had she?

“You think so?” He leaned a bit closer to her so that he was looking over the shoulder. “’Cause ‘ve still got that shirt…” He whispered the open-ended question into her ear, and she shivered involuntarily even though his coat was still wrapped tightly around her. In response, he put one arm over her shoulder, holding her close.

Buffy shut her eyes as heat seemed to seep into her body wherever he touched her. She knew it was ridiculous; his body was much cooler than hers. So why did the slightest contact set her ablaze?

He continued to hold her as he paged through the end of the book. She couldn’t keep her mind on the images before her, though. The ones passing through her head were too powerful.

 _Stop it!_ Her mind screamed. _Evil vampire, remember?_

 _But…feels so good!_ Another part of her countered.

 _Kidnapped you, chained you up, threatened to feed you to Drusilla: Any of this ringing a bell? And that chip may stop him from biting you, but would it stop him if he wanted…something else from you?_ Oh god! _That_ thought snapped her out of it.

Spike instantly felt her tense under him and quickly retracted his arm, moving back to his former position beside her.

She seemed to breathe an involuntary sigh of relief and abruptly sat up. “I should leave,” she said, inching away from him. “I have to get dinner ready for Dawn, and…and…”

“’s OK, pet,” he said, sitting up as well and scooting a bit further away from her. “You should go take care of the Nibblet if you need to.”

“I really do,” she jerked up to her feet and flinched slightly when he stood up as well.

“’ll just walk you to the door then…if that’s OK with you.” He gave her that shy, boyish smile, and suddenly her earlier worries seemed ridiculous.

“It’s OK,” she assured him, “but I really do have to go.”

“Yeah,” he ran his hand through his peroxide locks, and several curls escaped the gel that held them back. “So, then…” He gestured for her to go up the ladder first and then followed right behind her.

“Yeah, so…” she stood at the door, blushing bright red.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“Oh! Your jacket!” she said, taking it off and handing it to him.

“Thanks,” he said, tossing it over the back of the chair behind him.

“Yeah,” she repeated, “and…thanks for lending it to me.”

“No problem.”

“So…”

“So…”

“Spike?” she said suddenly.

“Yeah?” His sapphirine eyes met hers, full of hope and love and…

She decided it was best not to dwell on it. “Thanks for letting me stay here this afternoon. I-I had a really good time.”

“Me, too, pet,” he stuck his hands in his jean pockets and tried to look relaxed and casual.

It wasn’t fooling her. “You made me laugh and…forget. It’s like I’m alive again when I’m with you…”

He blushed. She knew it wasn’t possible, but he blushed nonetheless. “Anything for you, Buff,” he turned away from her slightly, obviously embarrassed by his reaction.

“I know,” she said, catching him by the sleeve, “and thank you. For everything.” With that, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek before slipping out his crypt door into the waning daylight.

Spike stood there stunned for a minute before lightly fingering the spot on his cheek where she’d kissed him. A genuine, delighted smile spread across his face while he still stood there dumbly.

“See you ‘round, Slayer!” he finally called belatedly.

“See you ‘round, Spike,” she said back, not having made it much past his door.

She shook her head slightly and headed home, an uncharacteristic spring in her step. Maybe things weren’t so bad after all, she decided. After all, if she could spend an entire afternoon just having fun, life could be worth living again in time.

Sure, she still had to fight all the monsters out there, but she had a sneaking suspicion that if she stopped back by again tonight, she could get a little help…


End file.
